


Mon Melancholia

by FrickinTeacups



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9061756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrickinTeacups/pseuds/FrickinTeacups
Summary: Levi has always had a shitty life.  At a young age, he lost his mother and was left with a terrible father.  However, his life soon changed when he met Isabel and Farlan, two people that would give his life meaning.  However, good things hardly last and soon Levi is left alone once more.The prologue to a future fanfiction about Levi, whom has AIDS, and Eren, whom has Porphyria, and how they come to be together.  In this prologue, Levi tells about his life up until the first day he meets Eren.  Also, there is prostitution and suicide in this, so be advised.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The main story isn't out yet, but this will help to clarify Levi and his behavior some when it does. I'm breaking this into either two or three parts, depending on how long they get. I hope to put out the next part relatively soon.

When I was a boy, I had a fear of drowning. The thought of water filling my lungs as I fought to reach a light that was just at the ends of my fingertips, the last breaths of air bubbling to the surface without me and the cold darkness below dragging me into its inescapable fingers- I was certain nothing was worse…   
My name is Levi, and I am twenty-three years old. I like to believe that I have lived a full lifetime- perhaps even more than just that. I can remember many things from my childhood and there is much that I cannot. Then again, are memories ever that important? We learn from our mistakes and learn to make decisions we will regret the least, but there is an ache that comes with those experiences- an ache that never truly goes away. You meet people and you lose them, all in a matter of time- be it through death or absence from one another. Life is nothing more than pain constantly being disguised by the pursuit of fleeting happiness. At least, that is what I have come to learn. Many would choose to argue this against me, along with many of my other opinions, but what use would it be? These are my experiences and not their’s. I always did think imposing an opinion on someone else was the shittiest thing a person could do. Then again, sharing my tale is just that. Imposing my opinion. 

 

My favourite memory will always be from when I was a child. An innocent being that understood little in the world other than what made me happy. In my case, what made me happy was going into the city with my mother. On such days as those, we would visit her favourite café from which she would order her favourite black tea with a single lemon. Sometimes I would try it and I always made some sort of shitty face in response. During our café visits, my mother would ask my how school was and inquire about normal things. Then again, I suppose most normal parents do. She was always interested in what I had to say. She would often rest her head on her hand and smile that warm, affectionate smile as she watched me excitedly tell her about what Jimmy or Sarah had said or done. In those moments, I could never feel more warmth, more love, than I did then. After we had finished at the café, we would go to the park and she would let me watch the ducks out on the pond, which were always chattering with things that must have been more interesting than what it seemed. Occasionally, I would even try my hand at interpreting what it was they had said to mom, to which she would smile and change her voice to mimic what another duck had said. I never can forget those days, especially compared to what other days have brought. However, one of those warm and enchanting days was different. One day wasn’t the same as the others I had spent with mother. And even in a sense, it feels almost fucking hilarious to look back on from where I am now.  
On that day, everything seemed normal. Mother and I went through the typical routine of going to the café and chatting happily. Nothing seemed to set the day apart until we had arrived to the park. I remember a certain silence to the air that spread its reach even into the very marrow of my bones. Still, I managed to shake it off like most small children do. I was young and innocent, oblivious to the world’s cruel truth. How was I supposed to know what I would see that day? I can recall smiling as my mom told me about the cake she would be baking later and how I could help her as she did, how we would also go shopping soon to get me the very best clothes for school, that I would be the best looking boy in my class. However, the façade of peace did not last long. Upon reaching the familiar shores of the small duck pond, I was initially caught by the strange object in the water. Being a child, I tugged on my mother’s sleeve and pointed at the white object barely peeking out of the reeds and asked, ‘what is that, mommy?’ I remember how quickly her expression turned into horror and how she pulled me close and called for help. Hours later I found out that simple white object I had seen had been the edge of a dress, but it wasn’t just the dress. From what I had overheard, the person had been an elderly woman in her mid eighties. She had recently lost her husband to cancer and, out of loneliness, committed suicide at the pond they had visited every Sunday after church. It was a romantic notion, but I could not understand how someone could choose to end their life just like that, much less how they could do it through drowning. For the next few years, that scene haunted me in my nightmares. Visions of a pale wrinkled face staring down at me, eyes dull and lifeless and the corpse’s hair flowing elegantly with the water as I stared up at it. I would be entranced by the sight until I felt the pain of water filling my lungs and then… the corpse would smile at me and reach its thin, bony fingers out to caress my cheek and whisper- “It will all be over soon.” That was my nightmare for a long time, but even that faded away to be replaced by worse horrors to come. In a sense, I sometimes wish I could go back to that nightmare- at least then, sleep actually came to me.   
A few years passed from that haunting day to when I was seven. That year, my mother was diagnosed with leukemia and I seemed to be the only one that wished she would get better. Each night, I kneeled beside my bed, my knees aching and cold on the floor as I prayed to a God I hoped would grant my wish. I wasn’t ready to be alone in this world, especially with my father. My father had always been the cruel and abusive type, the type that you despise with every essence of your being. In fact, the only good memory I have of him was once when he took me to the theater to watch a play, one which I can no longer remember the name to. That night we enjoyed ice cream and, for the first and last time, everything felt normal. Of course it didn’t last long and soon life had returned to its normal routine. Mom and dad yelling at each other, my father hitting my mother, and the cries as she grew even angrier at him for the action. Much worse were the nights he chose to make me his target. She would stand up for me, take the blow from him meant for me, and, at the end of it, she would sit on my bed, embracing me and gently brushing through my hair with her fingers and saying that everything would be okay. That was my ‘normal’ back then. However, when she had been diagnosed, she was rarely home to protect me from his anger, an anger that soon became enhanced by his drunken states. It was disgusting. He drank more and more alcohol like some damned pig while she rotted away in her hospital bed, claiming that he loved so much but since when had he ever shown that? Surely it could not have been in the punches against her jaw, the bruises they left? Surely it could not have been in the harsh words he spoke to her and even more so, it couldn’t be in how he deliberately stayed home to drink more and more instead of seeing her as her life drifted away.   
It was a cold winters night when my mother died. I can remember getting out of school and running straight for the hospital through the snow and bitter wind. I was only eight. I knew that night that my father would kill me for not coming straight home, but I didn’t fucking care. I had to see my mother. She was alone during this storm and I wanted her to have someone to endure it with besides the ignorant doctors and nurses that rarely checked on her. They treated her like a chore. Before going to the hospital, I had made sure to stop by our café and get that special tea that she loved so much. I can remember the sensation as it burned my hand while I ran with it, but I knew it would bring a smile to her pale lips and that was more than worth it at the time. The hospital had been a number of blocks away from the school and so it was no easy feat, yet I had every confidence it would be well worth it. Upon reaching the hospital, I took the normal route and soon found myself at the door of my mother’s room. I’ve always had asthma and so it took me a few minutes and the use of my inhaler to catch my breath before I went inside. By that time, my mother’s disease had worsened and she was thin enough for one to almost believe she had become a living corpse. I hated the sight; it always felt as though it weren’t her, that this corpse couldn’t be my loving mother.   
As I had expected, she was happy to get the tea, but that quickly faded away by her disappointment in me travelling through the storm, especially after just getting out of school. Still, she let me curl up next to her and held me in her weak embrace to pass the night. That night would be the last time I ever got to be in her warm arms, the last time I would ever hear her kind voice... When morning came and I awoke to leave for school, it didn’t take me long to notice how cold her arms were. My voice had weakened with fear and small ‘Mommy…?’ filled the air. My fragile inquiry went unanswered. It was then that I became aware of the persistent and heartbreaking buzz of a flat-lined heart rate. Despite the noise, the doctors and nurses were nowhere to be found. I was terrified and filled with sorrow. I couldn’t bring myself to move and just clung to the dead corpse that lay beside me, wishing and praying to a cruel God for her to wake up and brush my hair. To hear her say, ‘it’s alright, sweetie’, but those gentle words never came. Instead, it felt like hours before a nurse showed up, claiming that they hadn’t ‘known’. What bullshit it was now that I think about it. Still, what could I have done? I knew nothing of that field. I knew nothing of how to even try to help her. I was only a child. A child that needed his mother. That was when my life began to spiral out of control, to spiral into the fucking mess it is now.  
The years after that, all I can remember is the sensation of being numb. Everything about me felt numb and nothing brought me happiness. The world around me had turned to grey, and all of the sights and sounds felt distant and fake, like this wasn’t reality. At home, my father had not given up his alcohol addiction and each night while he yelled and occasionally hit me, I could only wish for that addiction to kill him in the most painful way possible. God how I fucking wished it would. Yet, it never did. They say karma is a bitch, but they never actually say to whom. In my experience, karma is a bitch to the victim. Never did anyone question the bruises that appeared on my pale skin, they only assumed I had got into some fight with another kid. I’d had a sort of temper in those times, but not enough to actively seek out a victim, I couldn’t bring myself to make someone else suffer for my pain. The pain I had to endure everyday during those times was the kind that no one deserved. Not even the most despicable of people. It’s a terrible fate, and yet, I was the one chosen to endure it.  
Despite all of the pain and numbness, I eventually managed to find two people that were capable of reviving the spirit in me. Their names had been Farlan and Isabel. I first met Farlan in an alleyway, which in a way is sort of ironic now that I think back on it. Back then, he had been the leader of a notorious gang- the kind that makes mothers warn their children to be in before dark. Of course, I had no care for the danger that they represented, why should I? My life was already hell. What could a run in with a shitty gang possibly do to make it worse?   
On that day in particular, I had been out late buying a pack of cigarettes, or, rather yet, stealing some. At the time, I still wasn’t legal enough to buy them on my own. I like to think I was around either fourteen or fifteen at the time; it’s hard to remember for sure. The prosperity of the day had proved to be fortuitous in the manner that I succeeded in stealing three packs of cigarettes, a new record at the time. Before someone can judge my smoking habits, I can assure you that I didn’t smoke a pack a day, even though there were many times I desperately wanted to. Actually, I’ve always hated smoking. The scent and act of the process disgusts me to no end. Going back to the day, I had been on my way home when I had taken notice of a few men that had been following me for the past few blocks. I had never been weak, which was another reason most people believed I got into a lot of fights. Why I never put that strength to use against my father…. I don’t know…. Perhaps I was scared of being alone? Nonetheless, at the time I intended to try and fight these people since the situation seemed to call for such actions. Therefore, I led them into an alleyway but had found myself cornered by their boss- a boy that couldn’t be much older than me, likely sixteen or seventeen at most, perhaps even eighteen. I won’t describe the entire situation apart from we fought and I managed to hold my ground for awhile. Even the strongest person has a limit, and for me, someone covered in bruises, that limit eventually came. The leader of the group had taken his own toll in our fight and, as a result, had found himself impressed with me. He’d seen the bruises, the broken look in me, and had known my story before I had even known him. I could never deny that Farlan Church was nothing short of being a goddamn fucking genius. As we both stood in that alleyway, he had offered me a place in his gang, a place in his family. He used words that were as sweet as honey to me, appealing to my every sense; promising me the very thing that I craved the most- a chance at happiness and being loved. I didn’t even try to resist it, and he knew I wouldn’t. So, I joined the gang.  
Farlan Church was the first true friend I ever knew. He treated me as though I were his own brother and didn’t hesitate to stand by me whenever something was going wrong in my life, which it often did. Every day that I came to visit him with a new bruise, he spent the time to do everything he could to bring a smile to my face. Often this came in the form of making a meal for me or offering to let me look at his books and even discuss his favourite ones with me. The mundane life he led outside of being a gang leader appealed to me in every way, always bringing some sort of smile to my lips. Of course, being in a gang wasn’t all sunshine and smiles. Often enough, we were at war with other gangs that threatened his territory, and, if not them, then the police. In time, the police would be the ones to fully tear apart the gang.   
It was at the end of Farlan’s reign as a gang leader that Isabel came into our lives. She is probably one of the single most unique people I have ever known. Her smile alone could warm the coldest of rooms, and her personality was the kind that never fails to make you feel content. Of course, like every thing that has beauty, she had her thorns. These thorns came in the shape of a sharp mouth and a very independent personality. I can’t remember one time when she wasn’t trying to hold her ground. When Farlan and I met her, it had been nearly a month since the gang had fallen apart. By then, Farlan and I had taken it upon ourselves to play the role of Robin Hood by helping those that were less fortunate. I’m still unsure whether or not it was our reputation or even just luck that sent Isabel to us, but I could care less. She was the second angel I came to knew, and so whatever brought her into my life is something I could give less than two shits about so long as I know she actually existed for a moment in my life. 

 

The day had been a cold one, so most of the higher-class pricks weren’t out on the streets and neither were the rats like Farlan and I. Nonetheless, a few of Farlan and I’s clients, some kids that were a little younger than us, had stopped by to bring us some food. It wasn’t uncommon that we would hide out in Farlan’s little apartment. He couldn't afford it, but the owner had abandoned it and no one ever really seemed to care enough to check up on it so we had made it our own. As for the kids, we had always been helpful to their families to the point their parents didn’t mind helping us out. It’s sort of like that Disney movie version of Robin Hood that I watched with my mom as a child. Robin was such a good guy that even the bunny family did their best to be nice to him. I guess in a sense, these kids were the bunny families and Farlan and I were some fucked up version of the fox hero. After the kids had left, the day felt quiet and Farlan and I both just chose to relax. Farlan read his favourite book and I cleaned the forever-filthy apartment. We probably resembled an odd couple, not that I really cared.   
The time must have been nearly seven and the air had grown colder. At the time, I had been cleaning up a few dishes we had used- a habit I typically did before I went home. I remember cleaning a knife in particular when there came a knock at the door. At first it was faint but then it grew more demanding. Farlan and I had looked at each other before creeping carefully over to the window. After peeping outside, Farlan looked to me and said in a soft tone, “It’s a girl….” Both of us were confused since neither of us knew who she was. Still, we didn’t want to take any risks.. I nodded for him to open the door and, when he did, my eyes fell upon a sight that I believe I will never forget. In the cold air stood a girl about my height with bright emerald eyes that shone with pure fire that heavily contrasted with her shitty appearance. She was dressed in what can be described as no less than rags, something that sure as hell wasn’t meant for this weather. Around her neck was a pitiful red scarf that would have likely would have matched her hair colour in its better days. She looked as though she had trudged through a lake as she dripped wet and shivered. “L-let me in…” She said in more of a demand than a request. This surprised me, but before I could say a word, Farlan was already pulling her inside. I don’t think I could have denied her anyways.   
In a hurry, we prepared a bath for her and had her change out of her soaking clothes as it filled. The entire time, she kept silent but her eyes still shone bright with determination not to look weak. For now, the questions could wait and instead, all that mattered was making sure this girl was taken care of. As soon as she was in the bath and out of earshot, Farlan and I began to discuss the girl and what her fate would be.   
“Levi…. I think she’s homeless.” Farlan began, his pale eyes looking down at the ground in contemplation. I sneered. “Of course she fucking is. Isn’t it obvious? The kid was dressed in rags and looks as though she marched straight through Satan’s ass. I don’t think there’s a more obvious picture for homeless than her.” Of course, this comment was overlooked by my companion whom was used to my manner of speaking. Sighing, he leaned against the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “We can’t let her go back out there. She needs a home. At least until winter is over… I think it would be best for her to stay here until then…. What do you think?” He looked over at me, his expression serious. Me being me, I looked away, crossing my arms. “You’re not going to fuck her, are you?” I inquired, not bothering to look at his expression. “Of course not. She’s probably thirteen or some shit, that would be pedophilia. Just because I’m a criminal doesn’t mean I’m interested in doing shit like that.” Such a typical response from him, but I could hear the smile in his voice since he knew what my reply was before I even had to say it. “Good… because I don’t want to cover your ass for that sort of illegal pig shit.” A chuckle was his response. He knew I thought it best for this girl to stay. Now the only question was as to whether or not she actually would. However, we both had a strong reason to believe that she would.  
Almost a few moments later, the bedroom door opened to reveal the girl and her fiery appearance. “Thanks…” She said in a tone that sounded all too much as though she were trying to suppress her true feelings. “Get the stick out of your ass and you’re welcome.” I replied. A brief expression of shock at my blunt words crossed her face before being replaced by a huge shit-eating grin. “I’m Isabel! Isabel Magnolia!” Both Farlan and I looked over at her in surprise at the sudden (and late) introduction. Her green eyes stared at us, probably staring into our souls, as she waited for our response. Glancing at each other, Farlan began. “I’m Farlan and this is Levi….” The girl’s eyes looked at Farlan and then over to me as she repeated his words, “Farlan… and Levi-bro…!” Once again the huge grin found its way onto her lips. For a moment, I wondered how it even fit. “Levi-bro?” I raised an eyebrow at the name, but she didn’t seem to have any intention of explaining herself and instead walked straight over and sat beside me on the couch and stretched out as though she helped pay the fucking bills.   
“So, can I stay?” She asked, looking at us again. Her expression was that of a hopeful puppy dog and now I found it my turn to speak. “Learn to clean up a house decently and we just might let you stay in our dog house.” Farlan rolled his eyes and looked over at her, “You can stay.” Isabel’s eyes lit up, “Really! Oh fuck yeah! Thank you!” She exclaimed before hugging us tightly. How was a girl of that size even able to wrap her arms around us both? Nonetheless, that was how Isabel Magnolia became apart of my family. And I never would regret that meeting with her. I still wish those precious days could have lasted longer, or, rather yet, never ended….


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi's life gets worse and he chooses to leave his life behind

After the introduction of Isabel to Farlan and I’s little group, life became a lot more bearable. For once, I felt as though I had a true and proper family. Farlan and I grew closer to the point we eventually called ourselves a couple. We loved each other enough after all. As for Isabel, she became like a sort of daughter to us even though she still called me ‘levi-bro’ no matter how hard I tried to get her to stop. Truth be told, I found the nickname endearing. We were a happy family despite all of the trouble around us. We had found a safe haven in each other.  
Meanwhile, at my home, father had begun to develop a bad habit of going out and gambling and sleeping with women. I didn’t mind this as it gave me some time at home without him there. For once I actually had the chance to roam the hosue and even go into my mother and father’s room to look at the belongings my father never allowed me to see. Among those belongings I had found only a single photograph of mom. Quickly I had taken the picture and stashed it away in my own room beneath my mattress. My dad didn’t deserve to keep it, not when he was out sleeping with other men’s wives and gambling away what he had in a drunken stupor. I remember that after that day, I often found myself locked away in my room like a pathetic Disney princess as I stared at the photograph and the tears that fell on it. The photograph wasn’t in the best shape, but that didn’t make it any less special. In it, my mother wore a beautiful white dress that reminded me of an angel. Her hair was as black as night and contrasted with the dress, but somehow that and her pale skin and eyes made her all the more like an angel to me. My guardian angel. There were times that I found myself talking to the photograph as though the person in it could actually hear me. I would tell her of Farlan and I’s relationship and about Isabel. I always avoided telling her about father though. Somehow, I felt as though she could less than I did about him.  
As the months turned into years, I began to grow older and more opportunities arose for me. Along with these opportunities, the three of us also began to take in drugs. It was never anything to severe, just enough to get a buzz. People finally began to see me more as an adult now that I was looking the part a little more. Of course, my height didn’t help. Being five foot three and male isn’t a good combination if you want to get into any clubs. Yet, by the time I was eighteen, I at least looked old enough to buy my own cigarettes and to get ballet lessons for Isabel and I. Sure it was unusual for a guy to take ballet lessons, but Isabel had wanted so desperately to take some yet didn’t want to take them alone. Initially she wanted both Farlan and I to take them with her, but Farlan had refused- claiming that he just wasn’t that graceful. That then turned the girl’s attention to me. There was no arguing that I wasn’t graceful. A number of times she had seen me fighting with Farlan. Before you get your panties in a twist, it wasn’t domestic abuse. No, Farlan would never dare hurt me. Instead, it was more of a practice to keep each other strong and, in some weird fucked up way, it was a way for us to say we loved each other. Nonetheless, Isabel knew how quickly and gracefully I moved during our fights- avoiding hits and landing them. So, unable to argue with the red-head, I gave in and agreed to take the classes with her.  
At first, Farlan found it amusing and even went so far as to buy me a fucking pink ass tutu. I wore it as a joke once, but after that, I made sure to burn the damned thing. The classes were hard, I’ll admit, but Isabel and I both came to enjoy them as we grew more and more talented at it. Of course it wasn’t all picture perfect. There were times our feet were covered in blisters and our nails were broken. That never stopped us though. We had known far worse pains than just those, but that didn’t make them anymore pleasant. As for Farlan, he found it impressive how strong we were becoming and would sometimes come to the classes and sit outside with flowers as though we had been in a show. He was a wonderful boyfriend and fuck was I lucky to have him. Along with the successes, our use of drugs died down drastically. Everything seemed to be pretty normal.  
The year of ballet lessons continued and when I was nineteen, Farlan decided to celebrate Isabel and I’s success by taking us to a club. Of course all of us except Farlan were too young to go in, but having him as an adult and me as a miniature sack of sarcasm and attitude was enough to get the three of us in, plus maybe the fact that Farlan was friends with the bouncer… As happy and excited as the three of us were that night, we never… I never could have guessed the fucking nightmare that it would become.

 

“Levi! Check it out! They even have a live dj!” Isabel exclaimed excitedly, her emerald-green eyes glowing especially brightly in the lights of the club as she pointed past me at the dj. I turned to look for a brief moment and then back at her, “It’s a club, don’t act so surprised.” I chuckled and reached out to ruffle her hair to which she quickly stopped my hand, a pout on her face. “Not here! I’m not a little kid.” She protested. I didn’t mind that so much. I knew that Isabel was becoming a woman and that she wouldn’t want to be seen as a kid anymore. It was a common thing wasn’t it? I wouldn’t doubt that she probably even had some guy she was eyeing too. God that was such a fucking strange thought. Before I could think on it more though, I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder and turned to see who the owner was. I was met by a bright and loving smile from a tall platinum blonde man. Farlan. “Care to come and dance with me? You could show off to everyone those new ballerina muscles you’ve got~ I’m sure you’ll be the life of the party.” Isabel giggled at his words and placed her hand on my other shoulder, making me feel as though I were some sort of lucky talisman. “Yeah, Levi-bro! Why don’t you go and party with your husband?” And of course, there was that trademark shit-eating grin I had come to expect from her after these past three years. I never did get mad at it, how could I? Nonetheless, I wasn’t about to give in that easy. Me being my shitty self, I had a reputation of being uncaring that I had to uphold so I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I would rather just get drunk off my ass like my father. Maybe then we can actually bond~” This little comment wasn’t very well-received though as I spotted my boyfriend looking at me distastefully and with concern. “Levi… Can’t you forget him for just one night? We’re here to have fun. God knows you need it.” That tone and the look in his eyes seemed to strike a cord. Looking at the two, I finally managed a soft smile. “I guess a dance or two wouldn’t be so bad.”  
Farlan wasted no time in grabbing my hand and leading me off into the mass of writhing, sweaty bodies. Any other time and I would have been disgusted, but that night, I could only feel joy at being able to spend time with him and Isabel like this. As we danced, time and even the world seemed to melt away, leaving us with a little patch of heaven. We were so entranced by each other and the alcohol that we hardly even noticed as hours passed and that there was a certain lack of our Isabel. It’s hard to say how long we had gone without seeing the red-head, but we took immediate notice when we were ready to go home.  
I stumbled about a little after my drink and held onto Farlan’s arm as we headed for the entrance. He smiled and laughed at my drunken stupor only to stumble as well. The two of us were like some stupid idiots that couldn’t keep our balance, well, that is what we were in that moment. The fun and games came to an immediate halt when I asked that one question. “Where’s Isabel?” We both stopped in our tracks as Farlan looked around at the dying crowd. There was no sign of her. How long had she been gone? I wondered, my senses slowly coming back to me as I searched as well. Farlan and I let go of each other and looked at one another, “Let’s split up. We have to find her…” The blonde stated, all trace of the drunkenness gone. Isabel was capable of taking care of herself, but not to come and hang out with us for such a long period of time? That was unheard of. She would never spend so much time away from us and that was what terrified us.  
We quickly split up and began to search through the crowd for her, asking each person if they had seen our beloved friend. As more and more of the answers turned out to be no, our hope began to die. Had she left the club? If she had, then where had she gone? That alone was a terrifying thought that neither of us wanted to consider. She was a young girl amongst a shit ton of drunken idiots. She was strong, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be someone stronger. I felt terror at the inkling I felt. Nonetheless, I tried to keep up my hope as I looked around more. I found myself at the women’s restroom and there was no reply from in there. I then went to the bar and asked the keeper only to hear a chilling revelation.  
“A red-headed girl? Yeah, her and a guy were chatting here earlier and had a few drinks. They seemed to be hitting it off pretty well, so I just assumed they were out dancing on the floor like most people. The bouncer might have seen her though.” He shrugged and kept cleaning the glass in his hands. Anger flooded me, but I knew this wasn’t the time to demand anything of the pudgy old man in front of me. I quickly turned away and ran for the doors to go outside. I prayed that Isabel hadn’t left and was just in the crowd, but that man’s words had chilled me. If she were with a guy and they had been drinking… That didn’t seem like a good mixture to me.  
Arriving at the entrance, I grabbed the bouncer’s shoulder and forced him to face me. With my eyes narrowed into a glare, I asked, “A girl with red-hair in pigtails and a blue dress, have you seen her?” The bouncer looked down at me and then thought for a moment before nodding, “I saw her about thirty minutes ago. Her and a guy came out. They seemed to be having fun so I didn’t think anything of it.” My heart stopped. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!!!” I quickly turned away and ran to find Farlan. That was pretty easy to do and, after telling him what I had heard, we both sped out of the club. After what felt like forever, we finally found her…

Turning into an alleyway, I remember my blood turning to ice. The only word that could seem to find its way to my lips was ‘no.’ In a trance, I ran over to the figure on the ground. Its blue dress was torn some and stained red with blood from the puddle it laid in. “No! God fucking no!” I cried, kneeling in the blood as I scooped the still partially warm body into my arms, one of which I made sure to use to support the neck. All I wanted was that wound to disappear and seal up so that I could hear Isabel’s voice speak to me. “Please, Isabel… Please…” I begged, tears forming in my eyes as Farlan stood next to me, staring at the corpse of our dear friend. “Who… who would do this…” He whispered, his tone in disbelief. Neither of us could believe what we were seeing and both of us wanted it to be nothing more than a sick nightmare. Yet, we both knew it wasn't. It was a sickening feeling to know that Isabel was dead, but it was even more sickening as we realized what had happened. The torn dress, the marks on her skin and the bloody knuckles… She had been taken advantage of in her weakest state, and, Isabel being herself tried to fight back and get free, but she couldn’t… For a moment I wondered why she would have let someone take her into an alleyway to begin with, but then it dawned on me. She was drugged. She had always been suspicious of men to an extent, once saying that she’d had a friend whom was raped. That’s why I had never worried about her in that field, but at that moment I realized I should have. God why had I been so stupid! We were at a fucking club! There was such an obvious danger and I hadn’t even considered it. And now? Now she was fucking dead in my arms. The thought of her desperately trying to fight, and probably even screaming for help, for our help, before having her damn throat slit to shut her up… It disgusted me. But it disgusted Farlan even more.  
Before I could stop him, I realized the absence of the blonde that had been next to me moments before. Blinking away my tears, I looked around and realized… Farlan was gone. Instantly my sorrow was pushed back and I set Isabel’s corpse down out of the blood puddle. “Farlan?” I called, my voice weak at first. But then I called out again more loudly, but there was still no reply. “Farlan, fuck no…” I growled and ran out of the alleyway. “Farlan!?!” I yelled, running down the sidewalk as I searched for him. He couldn’t have gotten far surely. Afterall, he had been there just a moment ago. A few minutes passed before I caught a glimpse of him running into another alleyway. I sped up and chased after him, but before I could catch up, a gunshot rang through the air. I screamed out my favourite word of the night and sped into the alleyway to catch the scene. At the edge of the alleyway, a figure dropped a gun and climbed over a gate to get away. I didn’t bother to give chase and instead rushed over to the person laying on the ground- Farlan.  
As I knelt beside him, my eyes quickly took in the sight. He had a bullet wound in his chest that wasn’t close enough to his heart or anything important to kill him immediately, but it was still bad enough that I knew I wouldn’t be able to get him help in time. The blonde looked up at me with a weak smile and reached out to touch my cheek. “I found him, Levi…” He said, his eyes shining with the accomplishment. “Idiot.” I growled, “Why did you go after him? You knew he was dangerous!” Farlan only chuckled and stroked my cheek with his thumb. “Isabel deserved to be avenged… Levi, listen to me. You have to make sure that man never hurts another person…”  
Instead of worrying about himself or even pretending as though he cared he was dying, Farlan told me the description of the man. He was determined to see justice come for Isabel. It hurt me to see him like this, but I listened to him. After he had finished his description, he asked me to take him back to where Isabel was so that we could all be together again. I could have used that time to take him to a taxi or someone that could help, but I didn’t have the heart to steal that wish away from him. So, reluctantly, I took him back to the alleyway we had left Isabel in. Once there, he sat beside me, an arm wrapped around my shoulders as I held Isabel in my arms and wished I could be dying with them. It didn’t take long before Farlan took his last breath and his arm slipped away. After he had left me, I cried in that alleyway, screaming and sobbing for the family I had lost. At some point, I guess my cries had caught the attention of a passerby. To my fortune, it was someone Farlan and I had known and helped out before- some guy name Jan. He’d had a bad leg before, but he seemed to be doing much better now.  
Jan hurried over to me and my deceased friends, asking what had happened. All I could do was say they had been killed, even though that was the most obvious fucking shit. He then tried to convince me I should go to the police after he had assured himself I wasn’t hurt as well. I still couldn’t bring myself to leave them, but I knew I had to and that he was right. The police had to know about the bastard that had taken my friends from me. I wasn’t able to take his life, but the least I could do was make sure his piece of shit ass never saw freedom again. So, I went with Jan.  
We visited the police station where I told them what had happened and even showed them where I had left the corpses. At first, they accused me of having killed them but once they found the culprit, whom had been drinking in a bar with some friends and confessed to the murders and rape, they then took him into custody. After that, I was taken to the hospital to make sure I would be okay. Unknown to me, I had been on the verge of an asthma attack and apparently had been in a sort of state of shock. It made sense, but I just wanted out of the damn building. By then I had been able to change out of my bloody clothes at least, which gave me some consolation. My visit to the hospital didn’t last long and once I was stabilized, they sent me away. I can’t go into too much detail of those hours at the police department and the hospital, but I do recall how shitty they treated me. I was some kid off of the street that, upon some inspection, was found out to be a damn druggie. They could care less about me. But since all of that shit had happened, they took me serious to a very minor extent.  
After I left, Jan offered to let me stay at his home, but I just needed time to myself. I had went back to our apartment, not even realizing that it had begun to rain. However, just a few minutes there and I realized it was too painful to stay there.  
Not long after arriving at the apartment, I found myself trudging back out through the rain and back to the place that had once been my home. I was in a state of despair and everything around me had turned black. What had been left of my world had died with Farlan, along with what had been left of my heart. As the rain soaked me to my bones, even the despair seemed to wash away into an emotion I couldn’t name. Before I knew it, my fist was knocking on that pitiful door I had once dreaded coming back to. It didn’t take long before I heard the door being unlocked and a familiar voice mumbling, “Who the fuck is up this damn late…” It said in a hateful tone. The door then opened to reveal a pig-faced man whom had an ugly-ass peach fuzz beard. His storm-grey eyes narrowed in a hateful glare at whoever had disturbed his time alone with his right hand and the television. This person was none other than my sorry excuse of a father. “C’est moi.” I stated in an empty voice when he was looking above me. I didn’t get my height from him, which I guess is the only thing that doesn’t make me hate being short anymore than I already do. His eyes looked down, his expression contorting me with disgust but highlighted by a disgusting smirk. “Took you long enough, boy. I was beginning to think I should look for you in the obituaries.” My stomach felt sickened by that. I doubted the bastard had even noticed I was gone. It had been months since I had disappeared from his life and not once did he put out any sort of search for me. He could care less if I was dead at the bottom of a ditch. “I ran away from your sorry ass, that’s what.” As if I had expected any less, his expression became enraged and he grabbed me by my shirt collar and pulled me in, shutting the door in a swift move as he did. The next thing I knew, I felt my back colliding with the door, but I didn’t even have a chance to slide down to the floor before his hand was holding me off of the ground to his eye level. “I’m your only family, you ungrateful little shit. So care to tell me what you said again?” I tried to pull free but found that I couldn’t, so, in a sort of desperation, I replied, “I made a shitty mistake… I’m sorry.” Of course that pleased him. He always did get off to making people remember they’re lower than him. With that, he dropped me to the ground and as I coughed, he turned away and began to walk back to the couch saying, “That’s what I thought. “  
Whilst rubbing my neck, I stared daggers in his direction as I watched him sit down and lift a beer bottle to his lips and drink it like it was fucking kool-aid. After a few moments, I slowly pulled myself off of the floor and went into the kitchen to get some water to ease the dryness in my throat the coughing had caused. Why had I thought it a good idea to come back here? Why did I think it would be any different than the day I left? This man didn’t give a shit about me. All I was to him was some fucked up version of Cinderella, here to serve his need whenever he wanted a beer or for dinner. I was actually sort of surprised that he was even alive without me there. I quickly drank the water, my throat feeling like heaven as the water washed over it. For a moment, I thought the night couldn’t get any worse but then that pig-faced bastard spoke. “I’m glad you’re back Levi… I really did worry when you didn’t come back.” I stayed silent but he didn’t seem to stop there. “Your mother had wanted to leave when she was alive, but I couldn’t bear it… I begged her not to go and then she went and died…. You were all that I had left. You look like her, you know. I haven’t been the best father, but I swear I’ll do better.” Those words came as a complete shock to me. What the hell had crawled up my dad’s ass and possessed him? He had NEVER said anything like this to me. And saying this right after he about choked me to death? I didn’t know how to feel. Still, somehow the words began to contort in my mind and made me feel even more disgust than I already had.  
I slowly walked into the doorway that separated the living room and the kitchen and looked at my father whom was staring at the television. I couldn’t see his face and I knew I didn’t want to. He was quiet for a minute before speaking again, “You’re not going to say anything?” He asked, his voice becoming hostile again. “I’m going to make some food…. Are you hungry…?” I asked softly, my voice still void of emotion. I didn’t care if he was hungry or not, I only wanted an excuse to make him stop speaking such shit from his piece of shit mouth. “Tch. Yeah. Haven’t ate anything all day.” He responded and took another sip of his beer. Having my answer, I turned away and went back into the kitchen. “There should be a ham in the freezer.” He commented before turning the volume up on the television. Apparently he wasn’t watching a porno at all, surprise surprise, but instead was watching some action movie. I scoffed a little and went to the freezer to find the ham sitting inside. I didn’t want to cook the damned thing. No, I just wanted to forget my hell of a life and the fact I had lost my only family. I just wanted to go up to my room and sleep the rest of my life away. But things aren’t that easy.  
As I prepared everything to cook the ham, my mind kept going back to just hours earlier and the sound of the gunshot kept replaying over and over in my head. I don’t know if I was crying at the moment, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I was. No, that moment in time was such a blur to me. It wasn’t long before my father had to make shit worse. “You know, boy, you’re just like your mother. She could never take the fucking heat either. I did what I had to. She was an ungrateful bitch at times, just like you.” Anger pulsed through me. How dare that piece of crap spout such shit from his pig mouth! He was the ungrateful asshole in the family. All he ever did was eat, drink and shit when he wasn’t hurting my mother or me. I found myself walking over to the ham and picking it up. The action didn’t even register in my mind as I walked into the living room as quietly as possible. He was too focused on his damned movie, but that made it easier for me. I came closer and right as I was about to do it, he started speaking again. “Hey, Lev-“ His eyes widened as he saw me behind him. Before he could move anymore, I quickly brought the damned chunk of meat down onto his head, bashing the skull in. I kept bashing it into his head over and over as all of the rage and sadness I felt flowed into every movement. It felt so good. I watched as his blood splattered around the room, painting everything it touched into crimson. It was almost beautiful. Normally I despised such filth and would have preferred to a less messy route, but that fucking man drove me to my limit. How dare he have said such shit about mom. He never deserved her. No, this is what he deserved the entire fucking time.  
When I had finally finished, I still wasn’t in my right mind. So, I walked back into the kitchen and placed the ham in a dish before placing it in the oven to cook. I felt like a zombie. No emotion ran through me at the moment and all I did was stare at the oven for god knows how long. Eventually I did undress and went to my old room to change. I was surprised it was still there in the same shape I had left it. Then again, I doubted the old man would even care to go out of his way to touch it. I went to my closet and chose an outfit at random before changing into it. Once changed, I had gone back downstairs and started to check for anything that might give me away as a suspect. My father had plenty of enemies- most of which were from games he had cheated at or wives he had slept with. That list alone would help keep me safe for awhile, which was a good thing. And, furthermore, no one around here gave a shit and probably didn’t even know he had a son- even better.  
A few hours passed before the ham was finished and it was then that I realized I needed to get rid of it. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to eat it, especially if my father’s blood was on it. That would be disgusting as fuck. So instead, I decided to feed it to some of the stray dogs I knew hung around on the street. I took the dish out in the rain and into an alleyway and placed it near the garbage. I knew it wouldn’t take the animals long to find it now. With my murder weapon disposed of, that just left me getting the fuck away. So, I went back into the house and gathered up all of the money I could find in the house and grabbed the last picture I had of my mother and stashed it away in my jacket pocket before leaving that house forever, and, with it, the remains of a life I had once known.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi becomes a prostitute

The year after my friends’ deaths didn’t offer me any consolation. Instead, life only seemed to throw more shit at me and demand for me to dance for its own sick amusement. All around me the sights and sounds seemed to be nothing more than a fucking blur. It was as if I had never met Farlan and Isabel and life from before had continued. As I traveled, searching for an escape from the memories, more and more people became strangers to both me and the people I had once known and held dearly. A certain part of me was glad to leave it all behind, but another felt just the opposite- it felt as though I should stay behind and continue to mourn. However, that just wasn’t an option.  
During those days, my life seemed to become nothing more than a search for escape- and that escape soon came in the form of heroin. I had taken drugs before with Farlan, but never to the extent of such drugs as heroin. It didn’t take me long to become a slave to the drug, but I didn’t care. I was obsessed with it and if it seemed as though I would have to go even a day without it, I would panic. Heroin chased away the demons in my mind and made me feel good again. It was like it wrapped its arms around me and held me close, shielding me from all of the evil and pain in the world. It was a feeling I craved more than ever. And, with this craving, I was willing to do anything to ensure I always had it.  
It was nearly four months after I had killed my father and been on the run, and by then, I was running severely short on money. I hadn’t thought of getting a job until then, and had ended up foolishly blowing all of my money on drugs and the occasional hotel room. Yes, I spent most of my nights sleeping in alleyways or on benches just so I didn’t have to waste even a single penny on something that wasn’t my beloved heroin. So, when I was down to my last dollar, it came as a major slap in the face in terms of realizations. No longer could I keep running, and, most importantly, no longer did I have the money for my addiction. This was a severe issue to me. I can remember panicking over how I would get more money and even being close to tears. I didn’t want that pain to come back; I didn’t want my memories to catch up to me. I just couldn’t bear it. So, when the light dawned on me of what I could do, I thought it was fucking brilliant.  
I had no work experience to my name other than the illegal Robin Hood shit I had pulled with Farlan when I was younger. But that was it. There were opportunities for me that didn’t necessarily involve work experience, however, those jobs wouldn’t be the most favourable.   
The first job I decided to try and take up was in a club. I had been sleeping in a local park in this one town when I remember seeing an advertisement for a server. It seemed simple enough. However, when I went to interview, I was turned down quickly. I just wasn’t what they were ‘looking for’. There wasn’t really anything I could say or do, especially since the owner was nearly twice my size in every aspect. But, as I left that club and walked down the street, that was when I had seen it. There was a girl at the curbside talking to a man in a car. It wasn’t hard to figure out the scene. Now typically I would have felt complete disgust and pity, but my severe craving for money seemed to drive it away. Instead, I realized the job opportunity in front of me.   
It didn’t take me long to find my own corner and start trying to attract customers. Those first few hours probably made me look like nothing more than a clown as I desperately tried to come off as appealing. Eventually though, I managed to hook a customer. The car had come to a stop in front of me and my heart had beat fast. I remember realizing just how inexperienced I was and that I had never had sex, not even with Farlan. Once the window had been rolled down and the pig inside had made a few attempts at hitting on me, I began to slip into a sort of haze. The next thing I knew, we were at his home and I was being paid rather well, and that was what mattered to me. No longer did my morality or ethics exist, all that mattered was that I had found an easy way to get money for my one relief. Besides, what was a little extra things to forget while taking my beloved heroin?  
From then on, money just wasn’t an issue anymore. Each night I was giving someone a favor in exchange for the green that they had promised. About nine months after my escape though, I was given a newer job opportunity.   
By now, I had managed to become cleaned up again in terms of my hygiene and I always had a place to stay so showers and baths weren’t hard to keep up with. As a result, I ended up receiving an offer from one of my clients. He was an older man whom went by the nickname ‘Sina’. Sina was a disgusting pig, but he was rich. So when he offered me a job in his own personal club, I didn’t think twice about turning it down. The only condition he had said was that I keep it secret. His club was an illegal one, and the main attraction besides strippers and prostitutes were the drugs. Everyone that worked for him was paid under the table, which was something I didn’t really mind.   
Sina had me as one of the strippers, saying that he really liked my body and would love to see it on stage with a pole, claiming I would be bringing in major money. Albeit, none of the money I made on stage would be mine, but I would still be paid extremely well so it didn’t matter shit. My first night on the job was filled with a mixture of drunken and high idiots, but that wasn’t something I was unused to. Soon the lifestyle even became a habit for me. Before I knew it, I was even turning twenty. It had officially been a year since the death of everyone that had once been so dear to me.  
By the time I had turned twenty, I was a complete and utter slave to heroin. Every second that possibly arose for me to shoot some up I found myself doing just that. The club ended up being the main place for me to do so. Often I would have an interested guest that would invite me to enjoy a few drugs with them, and my addiction drove me to take each opportunity when that did arise. Sina didn't care if I used drugs during a shift or not, so long as I was still able to bring in money- and, oddly enough, it seemed as though my little participation in drug use even helped me bring in more than when I didn’t.   
As more time passed, I began to cross dress. At first it was a simple curiosity, but it quickly began to attract even more customers. I found men giving me more tips at the club and even more offers to take me home. It seemed as though I had hit a complete jackpot in terms of money. I felt as though I might even become a millionaire, but not every good thing lasts as I should have known by then. 

 

One night, I had received an invitation to go home with a close friend of Sina’s. I had heard he paid extremely well, and so I didn’t really mind it. So, after my shift had ended, I followed him out to his car and began the drive home with him.

It had been nearly twenty minutes of complete silence in the car as he drove down the lone road. It seemed to be a side road that hardly anyone ever took, which seemed understandable since the area had a few bigger roads that likely attracted more attention. The silence was almost comforting to me and I found myself even slipping out of the trance I had learned to stay in during any moment of time with a customer like this. Typically the trance was just used to keep the pain to a minimum, but it also acted as a way of blocking out any chance of a memory of those people I had lost from resurfacing. Yet, this quiet and lonely road drew me out of that trance. Somehow, it felt as though I should be paying attention.   
As I stared out of the window at the trees lining the side of the road, I felt a hand on my thigh, slowly rubbing it and ebbing closer and closer to my crotch. My skin felt like ice for some reason and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I didn’t understand why I was panicking so suddenly- I had been through this numerous times before. Yet, I still found myself looking down at the hand and then over at the man beside me. His eyes were still on the road but he didn’t seem all that focused. Should I say something? No, I shouldn’t. What if he became upset and kicked me out of the car? It had happened before after all…. My heart beat a little faster and his hand began to rub.   
I bit my lip a little and tried to float off into my trance, but something seemed to hold me in place. I looked away from the man’s hand and up at the road in time to see a deer dash out suddenly. “Watch out!” I remember calling, but it then became a moment of slow motion as we veered off of the road straight into a tree. Before I knew it, everything was fading to black and the hand was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is such a short chapter compared to the others, but the next one (or two, I'm not sure yet) will be a lot longer. I just felt that this chapter was better off being short


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi's suicide attempt. Caution is advised if any of this triggers you

The sensation of your life ebbing away is something you never forget. The feeling as each breath that escapes your lungs brushes against your lips, the warmth of your own blood trickling down your skin like a small stream. It’s impossible to forget. As my eyes had slowly opened, I recall the fear that flooded my veins faster than the venom of the drugs I took. All around me were clues of what should have been my demise. Debris littered every inch of my sight and the slight scent of smoke filled my nose. Above all of that, I was hanging upside down, my seatbelt still holding me in place. Slowly I tried to pull myself to do anything, but pain washed over me in seconds, paralyzing every ounce of my being as I cried out in pain. Blood dripped down my chest toward my head and fell onto the grass below me. Was that my own? I wondered, my heart beating in my ears. I needed to get free, I thought. I reached over to my seat buckle and pressed the little button. It snapped free and I dropped down onto the grass. Another cry escaped me as I felt broken shards of glass dig into my skin. Already I was in a shit ton of pain, the glass only made it worse. However, at least I was free from my seat.  
Seeing that I was at least out of the seat belt and capable of escaping the car, I then remembered my client. Was he alright? I looked around the car and soon spotted the dark haired client. “S…ir….?” I breathed out, forcing my arm out to touch him. As the tips of my fingers found their way onto his hair, I could feel the cold skin underneath it. A startled gasp rushed out of me as I pulled my hand back, the pain of both actions dull compared to the experience I just had. It was then that I noticed another feature. Slowly I looked over at what had once been the driver’s seat and I noticed the decapitated corpse still stuck firmly in the seat, blood dripping from the neck and onto the ground. Vomit rose up in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it. I couldn’t focus on him now. He was obviously too far gone and beyond saving. Looking away, I then decided to try and crawl out of the wreckage. Using every ounce of strength, I tried to push myself up, and, sure enough, I rose up onto my forearms. The pain was excruciating, but I knew it had to be done if I wanted to survive. However, after only a few more movements, I found myself collapsing back onto more glass and with that collapse, every ounce of determination to live seemed to slip away as well.  
As I lay on that ground, I found myself growing more and more tired. Why was I even trying to fight? What was the point? There was so much pain in my body, and the only warmth was that of my own blood. No longer did I want to survive, instead, the only will left was that to let my life slip away. As I gave in to the overwhelming urge to sleep, more warmth seemed to envelop me. It felt nice. My eyelids flickered close, but before they did, I was almost certain I saw a hand reaching for me. I didn’t have the time to look before I passed out.

 

When I finally came to, I was first struck with the realization that I was no in the car or on the glass, but instead I had been moved away and closer to the road. The second realization that came to me was that I wasn’t alone. All around me was a hurricane of flashing lights. What was going on? I felt so weak, and my vision was so blurry that it took a medic coming up to me for me to realize what was happening. “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?” A woman’s voice asked as she knelt down beside me, likely looking over my body for injuries. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a barely audible groan. That seemed enough for her though. “You’re going to be fine. Just relax and stay with me.” Her voice was calm and it soothed me. Soon enough, I was being lifted off the ground and onto a stretcher. There was still pain in my body, but every felt so distant. As they carried me away to the ambulance, I forced myself to look around.   
From where I was, I could see that the car, which was at least three hundred feet away from me, was in flames. Not only that, but I could see the condition of the vehicle itself. Aside from being upside-down, the front half of the vehicle was completely crushed in and debris of the wreckage was strewn about the entire area it seemed. The thought then came to me as I realized I should have been in that. Why was I so far away? I looked around again to see if there was anyone else not wearing a uniform and was disappointed to see no one. I remembered a hand reaching for me before I passed out, had it been that person? Maybe they pulled me out and then went to get help? That must have been it, I thought. Slowly I lowered my head back onto the stretcher in time to be lifted into the ambulance. Once again I was assured everything would be alright, but it didn’t seem like it would be.  
Once into the ambulance, I forced myself to ask about whom had made the call. The paramedic tending to me looked confused for a moment before replying, “No one called it in. We were returning from our dinner break and saw the wreck. Now, relax and stop straining yourself.” Her voice was stern but I still needed to know who had saved me. “Someone… pulled… me out… Who…?” I said in a even more weakening tone. Despite the look she gave me for being too stubborn to follow her orders, she did seem kind in her response, “No one was around and there’s been no sign of any other people. You were probably thrown from the vehicle when it flipped. You’re lucky you were or else you would have been caught in the explosion. Now, relax…” 

 

I wasn’t awake for the surgery. However, I was told that I had broken a few ribs and had a gash in my right thigh from a chunk of metal. Besides that though, I only had cuts and bruises. They told me I was lucky to be alive. I had thought the same, but that was until they had received back some blood tests they had done to check for any diseases I may have contracted from my injuries. Additionally, what I had been told by the paramedic was still confusing me. I knew I had seen someone and that they had pulled me out. How else did I get out of that wreckage? Nonetheless, there were more important things about to happen that outshadowed my mystery savior.  
As I laid in my bed, thinking about what would happen to me when I returned to Sina’s in this condition, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of impending dread. Albeit, I dismissed it as just leftover feelings from everything that happened. Afterall, I had been through a lot. It turned out, however, that my sense of dread was well placed. My attention was drawn to the door by a knock as a doctor entered the room. The man was old and looked like he had seen a lot and been through a lot as well. His entire being emanated that he must be the sort of person to have hundreds of stories to tell. But that wasn’t what I was concerned about. No, on his face was an expression of secret. Like he was composing a secret for now and his professional façade would have hid it well if I were anyone else. Sadly, I wasn’t.  
The doctor began with the usual- ‘how are you feeling’ and ‘my name is blah blah blah’, but once the small talk was over, he got straight to the important shit. “Mr. Ackerman-“  
“Levi.”   
I corrected, watching him. He cleared his throat and nodded, “Yes, of course. Levi. I have some good news and some bad news…. Which would you like to hear first?” My face contorted some. “What sort of question is that?” I replied, not expecting an answer. He ignored it with an unamused look. Swallowing, I answered, “Give me the bad news.” I felt it was better to hear the bad news first even though I knew it couldn’t be good. Already my head was swarming with thoughts such as my leg was infected and needed to be amputated. Shit like that. But no, of course it was worse than that. In fact, even now I think I would prefer to be a leg short.   
The doctor shifted his weight to his other leg and looked me dead in the eyes, “While we were looking at your blood samples… We noticed an… abnormality of sorts….” He shifted his weight again. “I’m sorry to inform you that you are HIV positive.” Confusion flooded me at first as my brain raced to figure out what that meant but then it hit me faster than a freight train. My heart seemed to stop beating in that moment as I looked back at him, looking for words. Finally I settled on, “Like the… STD?” Part of me wanted to believe there was another HIV, one that could actually be cured, but the rest of me knew that wasn’t possible. The man nodded, “Yes.” He replied. I bit my lip. “What’s the good news then?” I questioned, wondering if maybe luck was on my side and a cure had been made without my knowledge. Of course, that wasn’t it either. “It seems like that you are still in an early stage of HIV, something we like to call the acute stage. Although it won’t be easy to deal with, the best part is that your symptoms can be controlled and, that if we can keep them under control with medication, then you will likely never progress to AIDS. If they remain under control, you could live a relatively normal life and not have to worry. Millions of people live with HIV normally. You could be one of them.” He concluded in a sickeningly hopeful tone. How could any of this be good news, I thought?   
“So… I… have the chance to live normally? Does that mean I can have sex? Have kids? Have any sort of normal life?” My tone wasn’t the slightest bit hopeful. If anything, it was accusing. I was upset that this man was trying to dismiss it all as if nothing was wrong when obviously it wasn’t. The doctor looked uncomfortable, knowing that he needed to tell the truth. “Sex, you can have as long as you take precautions such as using condoms and telling your partner that you have it.” He advised before continuing. “As for the rest of it, I will admit that your life will never be completely normal.” And that was it. That’s what I had wanted him to say.  
I rested my head down onto my bed pillow and closed my eyes. “I will go and see if we have any of the medicine.” The doctor said softly and left without any further word. Once the door closed, I sank into my racing thoughts. The main question that seemed to circulate was how did I get this in the first place? The obvious answer was that I must have gotten unlucky and had sex with the wrong person. But then, a memory occurred to me. Nearly a month or so ago, I remembered hearing a rumor about a regular client to Sina’s club that supposedly had HIV. Although I thought to treat as just a rumor back then, I had still taken my precautions. I knew for a fact I didn’t sleep with the man for that exact reason, instead just claiming to feel a bit sick. However, we had shot up together. And that’s when the chilling revelation had occurred. He had given me a dirty needle! The fucking bastard must have known what he had done, and that only served to sicken me further. Sure you may say- ‘Levi, maybe you’re overthinking it’ but oh fuck no. I sure as hell am not. As we had sat in the exclusive area, he had said he had some needles with him that I could use. At the time I had thought nothing of the offer and accepted. However, when he handed me my needle, something seemed off about it but I couldn’t place it, especially in the dimly lit room. That needle had been contaminated and I was the unlucky bastard to receive it. 

 

I was released from the hospital a few days later with the medication that would supposedly keep from getting worse and a stupid little pamphlet with a boy and girl who looked too fucking happy to have HIV. Even though I was terrified of what would happen to me now, I was even more scared of how I was supposed to survive now. Up to this point, I had relied on my body to be able to bring in money, but now my biggest asset was instead my biggest enemy. No one would want to fuck or even go near someone who had HIV, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to lie and risk spreading it. I couldn’t be like the damn bastard that did this to me. He was the scum of the earth, and, even though I wasn’t much better, I at least had the conscience not to ruin anyone else’s life.   
The months after the accident and my diagnosis were long and seemed to creep by. I remember not taking my medicine for the first few days out of some stupid stubbornness, but once the symptoms had started to kick in, I was quick to ditch that opinion. That first month I spent with what felt like the worst flu of my life, but I knew it would only get worse. After those symptoms had seemed to die down, I remember then being scared. I didn’t have anymore money and I was too terrified to go back to Sina and tell him the truth. Eventually, I landed an actual job at a little grocery store. Unknown to me, I was in a stage called the clinical latency stage. During this stage, the disease is producing at low rate and so it sometimes feels as if it’s not even there. And that’s what I actually thought. I believed I no longer had the virus, but I was still too scared to go back to my former job. In a way, it was a good thing. Because, during this stage, I stupidly went back to doing drugs and wandering from place to place. I was in shitty shape, and I only seemed to be making my disease worse. Maybe if I had read that stupid pamphlet with the stupid boy and girl on the cover, then perhaps I would have known what was going on, but I had long since ditched it into a dumpster.   
It was in October when my symptoms took a turn for the worse. My energy had fell drastically and I always felt sick. Part of me wondered at first if I was going through withdrawals but I knew what it actually was. No longer was I able to deny my disease. During the day I felt feverish and had no appetite, and at night I was unable to sleep due to night sweats. And when I actually did sleep, I found myself haunted by nightmares of what had happened to Farlan and Isabel and the car accident as well. Every second of my life felt like a living nightmare. So it wasn’t a surprise when I sunk into severe depression. By now I had experienced it a number of times before, but it had never been as bad as it was now. Despite my symptoms, I felt so numb and distant. The world around me seemed completely cold and grey. Eventually, even the drugs even seemed to have no effect against those feelings and that terrified me.   
In the past, my drugs had always been a source of relief against the pain of what all had happened to me. It was fucking horrifying to no longer have any weapon. In a sense, I felt as though I had been thrown into the lions den with not even a shred of clothing or weapons. No sense of protection. I was completely exposed to my enemy and it was tearing me to shreds. Each night I cried myself to sleep only to be woken up by the nightmares and the cold sweats. It was an endless cycle. And to make it all worse, as I began to give up on the drugs, withdrawal crept in and wrapped its cold bony fingers around me. I was suffering. Even hell itself had to be better than the one I was living in now. Was this payment for killing my father? Was this payment for not killing Isabel and Farlan’s murderer? I didn’t know and that alone seemed to be sending me further and further down that cold spiral into the abyss.   
By the time December came, I was barely ninety pounds and I looked and felt like death itself. Every ounce of hope I’d had before was completely gone. Now, all I was doing from day to day was going through the motions like some puppet on a string. Right arm up, grab this, open your fingers. It was all so mechanic. With these emotions, it was no surprise that the thought to end my life arose.   
It was Christmas eve, the day before my birthday. For the past few days I had fought with myself over the thought. Would I do it? Could I? Every time I thought about killing myself, pictures of the old woman that had drowned herself haunted me. She had had a family surely, someone that loved her still. And even if she didn’t, she had laid in that pond, her breath floating away from her. Was she peaceful? Was she happy? I had always thought she couldn’t possibly be, but now, I had to disagree. And then I would think about my mother, about Isabel and Farlan. What would they think? If they were alive, then surely they would feel heartbroken over my loss. But then again, they weren’t. They were dead. In a cruel sense of fate, it seemed as though I was destined to die as well. Besides, I had no one to live for other than myself and even that was fading away. I had a terrible disease that would forever haunt me. The depression alone felt like reason enough to continue. Who knows, maybe if I kicked the bucket, then I could be with everyone else. And that was the thought I held onto. I wanted to be with everyone and I wanted this pain to go away. This was my only option.

 

That day, I walked around the entire city, looking at each person and sight I passed. It was all so distant and meaningless to me. At one point, I remember even stopping by an alleyway and seeing a homeless girl sitting on a newspaper. I saw many homeless people as I walked that day, but somehow, she stuck to my memory. She wasn’t any different than anyone else, and she didn’t remind me of Isabel. She was just some random stranger. I remember her looking up at me with the same expression as everyone else and all I did was turn away and keep walking. Eventually I grew tired of it all and hailed a taxi. I told the driver to drive me to the furthest motel he could and he agreed. He drove out of the city and to some motel that looked even more shitty than actual crap. It looked as though it should have been closed down long ago but no, it was still working as indicated by its flickering neon sign that was more than halfway off. It felt perfect for someone like me. I loved cleanliness but it somehow felt like a big fuck you to God if I were to die here. I paid the driver handsomely for driving me to such a perfect place and then I got out and walked to my fate.  
I had brought nothing with me apart from all of the pills I could find in the shitty little apartment I had lived in for the past year. The room smelled like smoke and sex, and the walls looked as though they were falling apart. In the room next to me, I could hear the heavy breathing and moans of pleasure as a couple made love. On the other side of me, I could hear a man yelling at the television about some foul shot. It didn’t matter to me.  
Outside it was night and the cold of the winter air filled up my room. My heart was surprisingly calm as I had stared at my reflection. The figure across from me was pale and sickly. It looked like a corpse. And I watched as it lifted its deathly hand and stuffed red and white pills into its mouth. The thin lips closed around the capsules and its pale grey eyes just stared back at me. I watched as it swallowed the mess, and I felt as those pills slid down my throat. It hurts, I thought for a small moment, but the figure across from me showed no such pain.   
The corpse in the mirror seemed to smile. The grin looked out of place on it’s bony face, but yet it felt serene. After a few moments, my body began to feel cold and I could see sweat reflected in the mirror. I reached for the sink and held it in a tight grip, the cold porcelain feeling foreign to me. My chest began to burn with pain and I felt short of breath. I tried to take a breath, just one, but it felt so difficult. Finally I let go of the sink and walked myself slowly along the wall over to my bed but I didn’t make it. Instead, a wave of dizziness washed over me and sent me straight down to the hard floor. I was sure I had hurt something when I felt the familiar warmth of my own blood, but I wasn’t focused on that. My breathing came to me in gasps and now panic was setting in.   
Warm tears ran down my cheeks, and their salty taste touched my lips. I felt like I was drowning. My lungs weren’t filled with water, but they were burning as though they were. My throat stung and even though I was trying to move, it felt like I was going nowhere. Help me, I tried to say but it was pointless. All that came up instead was a sort of foam. Meanwhile, my body spasmed as I hopelessly reached for the door that felt so far away. Somebody help me, I thought as my vision began to fade out. I didn’t want to die…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this chapter longer, but I'm just not sure how to write the next part. But the next chapter should definitely be the end. I hope everyone that is reading this has been enjoying it so far


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